Of Curses and Other Things
by olndina
Summary: Set post-war Hogwarts, Harry has trouble sleeping, and it's not because of any nightmares he has.  Seamus and Dean try to help him.  Meanwhile, Blaise is just about sick of Draco's idea of "making love."


Warnings: This story has been, and continues to be, disturbing to write. While it may take some time to get there, the story will eventually be H/D. First, however, you have to deal with some Blaise/Draco and a really weird and fucked up thing with Harry that I don't want to describe because to do so would ruin the story. This story is very rough and is very much so in the "production" phase of things, unlike Oblig8 (which still just needs some massive overhauling to update to meet DH "fanon"). Because of this, updates will be slow in coming.

8th year, EWE.

There are relatively few things I own in this world… HPott is not one of them.

I do, however, hold a firm grasp of English Grammar, Usage, and Mechanics, as well as a fertile and dirty—and in this case, fucked up—imagination. Please enjoy.

~~X~~

Of Curses and Other Things

Chapter 1: Nighttime Trysts and Daytime Stalkings

Seamus's bladder was aching.

It had actually gotten to the point where he was pissing in his dreams. With a jolt, he woke himself up. Stifling a groan, he disentangled himself from Dean's arms and legs and ducked through the curtains of the four-poster. He shod his slippers and padded to the boys' loo. Feeling immensely relieved that he had not hosed his boyfriend down in the middle of the night—or ever, for that matter—he concluded his business and was just drying his hands, after washing them like the germ-conscious individual that he was, when he heard the distinct sound of someone sniffling.

He looked back through the darkened washroom and, sure enough, saw a light coming from one of the bathtub rooms. He eased his way toward the light source. Standing outside the door, he could definitely hear someone crying. Taking a steadying breath, figuring he was in for a long night no matter who was behind the door, he lifted his hand. The door swung open. Seamus didn't even have time to feel ridiculous for the way his hand was still poised to knock before he was stunned to silence. Harry Potter was sitting in the unfilled tub, with his pajama bottoms down to his ankles and his fist encircling his blood-flushed erect cock. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, his bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat.

It wasn't until Harry's strangled "help me" had jolted him out of inaction that Seamus dropped his hand back to his side and stepped into the room, thoughts of some homesick second year crying his eyes out long since gone.

~~X~~

Blaise watched his bed curtains flap closed as Draco returned to his own bed. He supposed he should have been used to it, but he couldn't smother the feeling of hurt and resentment that always filled his gut whenever left him like this, alone.

Ever since their first night back at Hogwarts, Draco had woken Blaise up at two, or thereabouts, and fucked Blaise until he came, back arched and throat screamed raw. That their relationship be sexual once they became so-called Eighth Years had returned to a war-ravaged Hogwarts was not a surprise. No, too many days and nights over the summer had most assuredly indicated to Blaise that they would be buggering each other senseless once term had started. But, the difference between the summer Draco and this new Draco was drastic.

The summer held a Draco who had always been willing, and sometimes begging, to bottom as nearly as often as he topped. That Draco had been perfectly at ease with letting Blaise control the speed and intensity of their trysts. That Draco had also been more prone to post-coital snuggling as well.

But, for the past fourteen days, exactly, it seemed as though someone had lit a fire under Draco's ass—or, in Blaise's opinion, _his _ass—and he was nearly savage and ruthless in his inability to give Blaise any modicum of control. He was near on insatiable.

Like tonight, for instance: Blaise had long since released his orgasm all over his stomach when Draco finally rode out his own orgasm. Truthfully, it had reached the point where the pleasure of having his prostate hit over and over had become painful, and not in the same way as the friction burns on his wrists had become painful. Blaise fingered one of the scarves that had, until a short while ago, held him up from the bed while Draco gripped his hips. Those friction burns would be a delicious reminder and distraction to Blaise tomorrow when he was bored out of his mind tutoring some O.W.L. Charms students from Hufflepuff.

The other pain, the one that made him decide on a healing ointment in the morning, that pain would have to stop. Resolved that he would _fix this_, that he and Draco would make love again instead of fuck, Blaise extinguished his wand and gingerly turned over to sleep.

~~X~~

Draco arranged his breakfast plate the way he arranged his potions ingredients: neatly and meticulously.

He never let his eggs touch his sausages, and he kept his fruit on a separate plate altogether. He used his silverware in the order in which he had been trained. His napkin dabbed around his mouth, never wiped.

He placed his napkin back in his lap and looked around the Great Hall. It still astounded him that Hogwarts looked much as it had before the final battle. Even the war memorial listing the dead, from both sides, looked as though it had always been apart of the stonework. No, if Hogwarts were said to be "war-ravaged" it was marked by the number of missing people: friends, enemies, mentors, and even simple familiar faces he used to pass in the hallway. Draco missed all of them. There were too many empty places at all of the tables, but most especially at the Slytherin table. True, Hogwarts had seen its lowest First Year class in centuries, but it still didn't make up for the fact that there had only been two Sorted into Slytherin that year. Draco glanced on those two now: Athena Freeland and Joel Stabler. Draco wanted them to be the ones to help clear Slytherin's reputation and to restore the House to its former glory, without the bastardized ideologies of pureblood pride. Draco had already seen what that kind of pride could do, and he had found it wanting.

Draco cut his eyes through the Hall again. Inevitably, his eyes fell on the Golden Trio. Draco suppressed an involuntary shudder that passed through him as he recalled the heat of the Fiendfyre and the screams of Crabbe. It was some minutes where he no longer saw the Great Hall, where he no longer watched the three Gryffindor, that Draco remembered clutching Potter as the Gryffindor saved his life. When he finally blinked and was at breakfast again, his eyes were drawn to the shadows that covered Potter's green eyes that once shone emerald, even through his hideous glasses. Potter was pale, drawn and pinched, as though sleep hadn't been his friend for some time. _Maybe the missing and a war memorial aren't the only things to change_. He immediately realized how naïve he had been to think such a thing. _Of course he's changed, you imbecile. _He_ went through hell_.

Draco studied Potter for a few more minutes, watching how he interacted with his two best friends. He concluded that things were tense among the three of them. Or, more specifically, between Potter and the other two as a united front. Granger was gesturing with her hands, her frizzy hair bouncing around as though it were alive. Weasley, who was sitting on her other side, nodded his head in agreement. Potter wasn't looking at them. His gaze was stared fixedly, stubbornly, on his plate of food. Draco couldn't for the life of him draw his own gaze away from the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the Savior, Harry. And, inexplicably, it seemed that Potter knew this. He lifted his head and his eyes scorched through to the quick.

He had no idea how long they stayed like that, green boring into grey, but neither boy broke the contact. There was no hatred in Potter's look, nor was there any pity, something Draco might have expected from Potter's Gryffindor sensibilities. It was a look of understanding and even forgiveness. It wasn't until Thomas and Finnigan sat in front of Potter, obscuring Draco's line of sight, that Draco looked down at his own plate and realized that the understanding and forgiveness he had seen in Potter's eyes were merely things he wanted to see there. His plate was mostly full as he dabbed at his mouth one more time before folding the napkin up and removing himself from the Hall. He still had hours before his first lesson of the day, and he intended to use that time to think.

~~X~~

"Draco, wait," Blaise called down the hallway. He sped up and rounded the corner, but by the time he got there, he may as well have saved his energy. Draco had disappeared. There were no classrooms in the immediate vicinity, and Blaise was a little puzzled. More than that though, Blaise was furious. The previous evening, they had made plans to spend that morning together before Blaise had to meet with the Hufflepuff students. With their vastly differing schedules, the mornings were the only times that they had together. Blaise had thought they were as important to Draco as they had been to him. _Obviously I am mistaken_. Drawing himself up to his full height, Blaise spun on his heel and ran into someone. When he had recovered and realized that it was Potter and not, as he had allowed himself to hope, Draco, he glared. "I suppose it is too much to expect for the Boy Who Lived to pay attention to where he is walking. Honestly, Potter," here he gestured to the open space of the hallway, "there's plenty of room for you and your ego to share with the rest of us plebeians of the castle."

Potter, who had been looking at something in his hands, blinked and finally looked Blaise in the eye. He quickly folded the grubby parchment and put it into an inside pocket of his cloak. "I'm sorry, Zabini. You're right. I should pay more attention to where I'm going. Excuse me." Then, he simply nodded his head to Blaise, stepped around him, and continued to make his way down the hall, leaving Blaise standing with his mouth opened, trying his best to figure out what in Merlin's tangled beard had just happened to Potter to cause him to treat Zabini with civility. _Polyjuice Potion. It has to be._

~~X~~

It was not Polyjuice Potion.

As soon as Harry was sure that Zabini had left the hallway, he withdrew the Marauders Map from his pocket and looked again for Malfoy. Something had passed between the two of them, of that Harry was sure. Malfoy had met Harry's gaze with no malice. There was sadness, yes, but beyond that, understanding. This understanding had caused Harry to leave the Great Hall when he saw the other man leave. He pulled the Map from his cloak and watched D. Malfoy make his way through the castle. He had been watching the map intently when D. Malfoy suddenly disappeared. He just trying to make out this mystery when Zabini had plowed into him, or he had plowed into Zabini, whichever the case had been.

Now, alone, he was scouring the map, trying to find where Malfoy had gone. He moved his eyes from floor to floor, room to room, until he finally made it to the Room of Requirement. There, unhidden, was D. Malfoy pacing the parameters of the room. Ignoring the strange mixture of feelings that knowing Malfoy had gone back to that room, of all places, Harry had but one question: How in hell had Malfoy gotten there so quickly?

For the first time in months, Harry felt something stir in his soul. His blood quickened and he felt awake and alive. He smiled as mumbled the words that would erase the map. He continued to smile all the way to the library, where he planned to study during his free morning hours. If any of his friends could see him at that moment, they would have been pleasantly shocked to see that there was a bounce in Harry's step where there had been sluggishness from yet another sleepless night. Well, it would have been sleepless if it hadn't been for Seamus. Ignoring the feeling of mortification that threatened to distract him from his good mood, Harry determined that at least for a little while, he would think about something else.

~~X~~

"_Tempus_."

Draco sighed. It was just passed one, and if he stayed true to form, he would soon be waking Blaise for a fuck. He slid a hand beneath his blanket and cupped his flaccid cock. He gave an experimental and half-hearted tug, but there was no stirring. He thought about Blaise's tight ass, and how tight he would be when Draco would first slide into him. He squeezed his cock, silently begging for blood to rush to his groin and stiffen his member. But, his blood and his cock both refused to comply.

He rolled over onto the mattress and thrust his hips into the mattress gave a half-hearted groan, but still he was unaroused. He imagined Blaise wrapping his lips around his cock and swallowing down as he hummed. Draco would thrust his hips forward and threw his head back. Blaise's talented fingers would slip past his balls until one clever digit would slip past to the ring of muscles of his anus, teasing him. Draco would bring a trembling hand up to touch Blaise's head. Only, instead of ghosting his fingers over the smoothness of Blaise's shaven head, he found soft tousled hair. Draco would look down at this stranger and his grey eyes would meet green eyes, the same ones that had locked with his at Breakfast that morning. His fingers would reach down to trace the lightning bolt scar on and suddenly Draco was on his back again, his hand fisting his cock as he breathed with his mouth open, the familiar dehydration that accompanies sex drying his mouth, tongue, and lips out. He groped for his wand and hissed a silencing charm. Dropping the wand, he reached up and twisted a nipple, still picturing Potter looking up at him as he sucked Draco off. Draco moaned and gasped, thrashing in his sheets. He was getting closer to the edge and was so ready to step over it into the oblivion of orgasm. He flailed his hand around for his wand, desperate to speed and smooth his ministrations. He pointed his wand and practically shouted a spell, warm lubrication enveloping his cock. The warmth, slickness, and two-handed grasp he employed made it seem more as though he really were thrusting into an eager sucking mouth. He sped his pumping, his entire body straining and arching. He threw his head back and finally, finally ground out the name of the owner of the mouth he so desperately wanted. He came then, harder than he had in all the times he had been with Blaise, but he wouldn't think about that until the next day when he woke up to find his stomach and chest covered in dry semen.

~~X~~

Blaise rolled over in his bed, fumbling for his wand. It was nearing four and he realized that Draco was not coming to him that night. With no small amount of dismay, he banished the floating numbers and rolled over, not to cry. Or, at least that's what he told himself.

~~X~~

Seamus looked at Dean. "You reckon we should check on him?"

Dean looked grim as he nodded his head. "We have to. I mean, it's fucked up, yeah?"

"Yeah."

And it was. When Seamus had found Harry the night before, Harry had looked so helpless.

"I can't do it," his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Do what?" Seamus breathed back, although he already knew the answer.

"Get off." Harry turned his head away from Seamus. "It hurts. Every night since we got back, I've not been able to… you know. At first, it would just go away after a bit. But, each night, it takes longer and longer. Even if I toss one off before bed, I still wake up hard. It hurts."

Seamus was already kneeling by the tub by the time he realized he had moved from where he had closed the door. Harry flinched as he reached a hand out towards him. Seamus froze. "Harry, I just want to touch your face. I promise not to do anything else." Seamus was operating on instinct. He knew if he touched Harry's cheek, he could help him. Slowly, still not looking at Seamus, Harry nodded his head.

Seamus fingertips barely grazed across Harry's cheek and Harry screamed as he arched his back. Seamus drew his hand back and looked away, trying to give Harry some semblance of privacy.

"What the bloody hell?"

Seamus surged to his feet and stared in horror at dean for a moment before shoving him back through the once again opened door. "Don't look at him!"

~~X~~

"Don't look at him? Don't fucking look at him?" Dean was hot anger. "Were you or were you not just tossing Harry Potter off?"

"Dean, just leave!" Seamus put some more force into his shoves.

"Seamus, if you think I'm just going to leave, you can bloody well forget it!" Dean shoved back.

"Dean, I'm begging-"

"No, wait." It was the quiet desperation of Harry's voice that made the other two stop struggling. "Seamus, it's okay. He's your boyfriend. He loves you. He should stay."

When Dean had finished glaring at Seamus, he finally looked at Harry. What he saw in the other man made his anger dissolve and his fists unclench.

Dean had seen Harry in pain before; hell, they all had. He had never seen him broken, though.

Harry was struggling to pull his pajama pants up. He had already banished away the evidence of his ordeals. Even with his head at an odd angle, Dean could see that he was crying. When Harry had covered himself and started struggling to get out of the tub, Dean didn't hesitate to help Seamus steady him. "Thanks."

"Harry," Seamus began, "what do you need now?"

Harry snorted and looked up to meet each of their eyes. His eyes were a dull green and there were shadows dancing there that Dean had never seen before. "My dignity back."

"Harry-"

"No, it's okay, Seamus. Things have to get better, right? Now I just need sleep." He ducked his head and his voice dropped. "Thank, Seamus for, well… Dean, I… I'm sorry."

Neither Dean nor Seamus said anything as the other man shuffled out of the tub room. When they had been alone for some time, Dean finally shook himself. "Seamus, what's going on? You're, well, you're obviously not going around behind my back with Harry Potter, but I would think that you'd tell me if you felt you needed to give him a hand job. Please-"

Seamus's only response was to pull Dean into a heated kiss. And, although Dean could feel his arousal build as Seamus pushed against him, he knew neither of them was truly looking to have sex, not after the events of the past fifteen minutes.

When Seamus finally ended the kiss, Dean was unsurprised to see unshed tears causing his eyes to look glassy. "Dean, we have to help him."

"Of course we will," he raised a hand to swipe a tear away from Seamus's cheek. "Let's go back to sleep. We'll start tomorrow."

Seamus nodded his head and let Dean lead him back to what had become their bed, instead of simply Dean's. Although Seamus dropped to sleep immediately, Dean lay awake for a while, holding Seamus and listening to his lover's deep breaths. After last year, when Dean didn't think he'd ever have the chance to lie in his bed with Seamus in his arms, he had vowed that he would never spend so much as another night away from him. And, while he had no idea what would cause Harry physically, or magically to need Seamus to help him orgasm, he knew that Seamus wouldn't simply betray him by throwing away what they had. _Whatever's hurting Harry, we'll see it through_. Dean leaned forward and placed a kiss on the back of Seamus's neck and then fell asleep with Seamus's scent comforting him.

~~X~~

A/N: Seriously, if you see errors, either grammatical or HPott 'verse, please let me know. I haven't even gone back through and done another proofread, let alone an edit.


End file.
